Students' Writing

Flash Fiction Writing from a workshop in Somerset

Here are a few examples of some great writing by a selection of Year 8 students using a flash fiction 250 word limit and working to produce something special in a 50 minute workshop. I was taken aback by the sheer imaginative range of writing I read at the end of the workshops - in terms of genre, covering everything from fantasy, comedy, thriller, the surreal, to science fiction.(I was so taken with the idea of 'moon rabbits' and 'whimsical llamas' that I wrote two poems with these as the subject.)

Year 8 Flash Fiction

Gerry walked outside and thought to himself ‘what a lovely day’ and then he glanced up and screamed as a moon rabbit plummeted towards him. The moon rabbit landed heavily on his head with such force Gerry’s neck became dust.Gerry is no more.The moon rabbits are a constant pest, every day more people fall victim to the moon rabbits’ jumping antics. It’s down to the moon gas: the rabbits just have to breathe in and they can jump several miles high and look to land on unsuspecting overweight shopkeepers. The only way to defeat them is to expose them to sun foxes whose radiance and beauty completely destroy the moon rabbits’ puny minds.Gerry’s son Jim was devastated when he heard the bad news. Luckily for him however, his store sells sun foxes. Jim is very overweight and wears necklaces. This gave him an idea: how about wearing a sun fox around his neck like a necklace. Then all he would need to do is walk around the moon town and all the moon rabbits would soon leave.Jim forgot, however, that sun foxes burn people and screamed in absolute terror as he watched his torso disintegrate.Unfortunately for the good people of the moon civilisation the moon rabbits are here to stay, and nothing can ever possibly make them leave. Not a single thing in the entire universe. Only one overweight shopkeeper can save the world he knows and loves so much.JB – Somerset

Year 8 Flash Fiction

Have you ever thought about cows? Not just about their unmistakeable black and white paint splats all over their bodies but about what the hell they must be thinking when they’re left in a field all day to eat, and when they’re vacantly staring at you with their big cowish eyes? Well, let me tell you about cows: the truth is that cows once lived on the moon and the moon was covered in grass but cows were starting to eat faster than the poor grass could grow. The cows knew that there was nothing they could do for the withering grass so they tried to introduce cannibalism but it didn’t work out because cows are vegetarians. But just as they were about to lose hope, one bright cow saw a planet; a green planet called earth which looked perfect! Perfect for our hungry cows now that the moon was just a rock covered in dust. The biggest cow took a leap and landed in England, the next landed in Russia, and the rest landed in Switzerland. One cow landed in Germany but he didn’t last. That’s why cows go moo, not because they are barking mad but just because they are homesick. So when you next see a cow don’t tease him because of his funny language because like all of us they have feelings. One last word: NEVER call anyone a cow, because how would a cow feel if he was called a human?MS – Somerset

Year 8 Flash Fiction

I couldn’t move. He stared at me right in the eye as if to shout ‘help’ but I was useless. I shouted enough to make my throat sore but nobody heard me. Time had changed my surroundings but not me, I was still. I couldn’t reach out to grab him or pull him up out of the murky water. I could only stand there and watch the water gradually eat away at the body that lay there. I feel as if my heart has split in two, it hurts to see your friend so pale and lifeless. Sometimes I wonder if I am a statue built upon the river bank where my body would be forever. At the base there would be gold lettering which spelt out my name and his. It would act like a warning to other unfortunate souls, who venture too deep into the river. There was no other explanation, why was I so still – why couldn’t I move? I could not slow down time and eventually there were only bones left at the bottom of that river. I stared up towards the night sky. Strangely enough, I felt like I was encased in mud and above me the moon reflected off something: that something was water. Then reality hit me – I was the one that had fallen into the death trap that day. On the river bank stood my friend who stared longingly at the bones that remained. They were my bones.CH – Somerset

Year 8 Flash Fiction

The whimsical llama of bones and organs floated majestically at the speed of light towards the diamond tiger of ethnic obo melodies who brought the egg chomping llama to a senile halt. The llama let out the mighty scream of a bronze dagger gibbon and enquired why the tiger had stopped he. The tiger implied with great curdle that the llama was of illegal immigration to the following penguin order and the queen of forever young wanted the llama killed with a block of immunity. The llama denied this crime but the tiger disagreed in a tornado of mighty patheticness and then the llama supplied him with the words reading have you the audacity to doubt my veracity and most indeed insinuate that I do most prevaricate. Suddenly the god of cheese inspired velocity rose the politician of the magic situation of the dragon lands and uttered the words of hell and above the skies of coral that he the llama and tiger must bow down to the mighty unicorn of epic explosions and emotionality, but they refused and got vaporised by a pimple on the rim of the politicians sleep encrusted face and drank the juggornaught sploosh of great integrity and perseverance and smited those who dared to live upon the world of ice, but those few who survived seeked death and murder so that one day the orange red heads of gloom land will rule over the rock obis of many many screams of mirth and fire.JL – Somerset

Chip off the old block

The following poem was written by a Year 5 boy about myself. As you can see, it is a work of heartbreaking genius - but then I would say that because he's my son. He was asked to write a poem about a member of the family so I read him 'Not the furniture game' by Simon Armitage to give him an idea of how far out poetry can take an idea but also because it is blisteringly good in a strange, dark way. Clearly, it had some influence because even I had no idea that my belly was an 'impregnable fortress'.Dad's naming gameHis head a shiny egg, bright and red, waiting to be cracked open,a door to his brain, an admirable machine, sprouting ideas every second.And his eyes two oceans, their secrets hidden within,while his smile is a dog's tail, wagging non-stop.His sideburns are shadowy bracken lurking in the sunset disappearing over the horizon which is his hairand his teeth are the arch-enemies of Stonehenge, as ancient and strong but twice as deadly.The laugh his mouth created was the rustling of wind and the cackle of a crow, although his belly is an impregnable fortressand his legs are tree trunks, leading down to the roots of his feet.His shadow is a captive giant of the sun and his heart is a galloping racehorse.By Solomon Smith

And there's more...

More precociousness - I need to watch my back! Solomon entered this short story in the BBC2 Children's Competition - he didn't make it through to the final 50 but it's a great piece of writing for someone of his tender years.Alex’s dilemma

Alex was hopelessly lost. Every corner he turned brought him to another corridor and another and another. As the night deepened, the walls seemed to solidify, or so Alex thought. Wandering the ruins of Troy he thought of his parents at the gift shop, waiting for a boy who might never return. On turning a corner Alex suddenly realized the path he had been walking on was harder. He looked down and where there had been grass there was now stone. He steadied himself on a wall and noticed that, in this part of the ruins, the stones were smoother. Alex carried on down the path, feeling even more desperate to get out until he came into a courtyard with a small Greek building in the middle. Despite his desperate situation, Alex smiled.‘Now this is clever,’ he thought, ‘they’ve recreated the building to look like the real thing.’ Suddenly he heard mumbling voices. ‘A search party!’ Alex thought, ‘Someone is coming to find me.’ Seeing a passage in the side of the courtyard, Alex raced towards the voices.As Alex came out of the passage his heart sank. He was in a large courtyard ringed with flaming torch braziers. A dozen people in ancient Greek dress were staring up at a colossal, wooden horse. An old man with a gold headband stood next to a young man in a matching crown. Four menwith identical armour and weaponry stood nearby. Two men with golden sculpted armour and their helmets under their arms also stood with thegroup. Last of all, there were four unarmed men in wealthy robes with long beards. Alex held his breath and watched. They seemed to be in deep conversation.

‘It must be a group of actors rehearsing for a play,’ Alex thought. Although he did not understand their language, Alex could guess some of what they were talking about by their gestures and movements. One of the men in golden armour began speaking frantically, taking one of the torches from the wall and striding towards the giant horse. The crowned man shouted and the man with the torch stopped. One of the bearded men made a short speech to the group. The old man nodded and seemed to ask a question but no one moved. Suddenly, Alex sneezed. Everyone turned towards him. The old man smiled and snapped his fingers. Two of the armed men tied a rope round his waist and threw the loose end over the back of the horse. They handed Alex a torch and he was pulled off his feet. When he was level with the body of the horse, he peered inside a gap and he could see the flames reflected in the eyes of several me hidden inside. Alex heard the old man shout up to him and the guards on the ground raised their spears. When Alex looked back at the horse, he saw the silver point of a spear slide through the gap.

By Solomon Smith

Year 4, Winterbourne Stickland

The following poem was made by a Year 4 class I worked with. We took newspaper headlines and cut then up or used them whole. Then we tried arranging them to make lines of poetry. The best lines were then put together to make this class poem which even happened to rhyme. I love some of the images, such as: 'stripes of joy on my hand' and 'puzzles of pushing' and, of course, the end line which is pure poetry.Only idiots walk in spaceWhen there's endless joy in the land,The glittering fairies voted outAnd the stripes of joy on my hand.Big Hot Prizes said the sign,Doomed poetry over the hill,Puzzles of pushing, freezes of mud,And all the screenagers chill.Sweep away in the land of swoosh,Snap their secret above,Ghost games in basic boxes,The cold stillness of unhappy love.